Night at the Fringe lab
by aGirlNamedRoxy
Summary: The team is confined to the lab when a dangerous substance is released, which may cost the team their lives. Everything is not seems, and it soons turns out that someone had something against one of the team. pre season 3, with some Polivia scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: Hi! This is my first fanfic EVER. So please be nice, and correct me when there's something wrong! So please read and enjoy!:D **

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fringe. If I did...let's say that things would be pretty different. And I would be rich.**

{Chapter 1}

The door clicked open, and Olivia's head shot up at the sound. She pulled her revolver from the table, clicking the safety off. There was someone in her house, someone who had a key, most likely a key that she had misplaced. The person was in the kitchen, and she could hear the crinkle of plastic, as bags were put on her countertop.

_Now, who could that be?_ Better to be safe than sorry anyway. She edged towards the door frame, and, gun in right hand, flipped the light switch, and pointed the revolver at the mystery man.

"Hey! It's me!" He yelped, turning around, and immediately flung both hands in the air. Olivia put her gun down, and looked at him in shock.

"Peter?" She blurted. "God, what are you doing here?" She paused, looking at the key on the countertop. "So it was _you_ who took the key? You could've just _asked_!"

"I doubt you would have given it to me." Peter reasoned, turning back to the counter, and tossed the key to her, which she caught deftly, and continued to unpack his packages. "Anyway, you can have it back. And to answer your earlier question? I brought take-out." He passed a carton to her, and took another carton out of the bag.

"You could have called?" Olivia said, smiling, as the both of them left the kitchen, and into another room, where papers were strewn across a oval coffee table, and her Macbook acting as a paperweight. They dropped onto the sofa.

"I did." Peter replied. "Your home phone. Went STRAIGHT to voicemail." Olivia's eyes widened, and she started to search for her phone. Minutes later, the phone was unearthed, and Olivia punched at the rubber buttons.

"Huh. Battery's dead." She said, placing it onto the coffee table. "You could've called my cell." Peter lifted another chopstick's worth of noodles to his mouth.

"If I had, you would have thought that there was another case, and gone into some frenzy FBI mode at the first ring." He said, and gulping down the noodles, added. "And I wanted to surprise you."

"Well _that_ turned out well."

"As it always does. We've talked about this. You can't just keep working and not eat food. And _no_, whiskey and cereal do not count. Proper food." Peter said, giving Olivia a small smile. "I know you too well, Olivia Dunham."

"I don't think Chinese takeout counts as 'proper food' either." The FBI agent pointed out. Peter shrugged.

"At least it's _food_." He said. "Food that isn't cereal and whiskey. Doesn't it get boring after a while?"

"Not really." Olivia said, glancing up at him from her carton of noodles. "It's edible. But it beats eating leftovers." Peter laughed, and Olivia gave him a _look_.

"Leftovers of what? Since when do you cook, anyway?" Olivia started laughing too. "See? It's true!"

"Good point." She said, then her eyes narrowed. "Wait. Didn't I give you the keys to this place already?"

"Yes. But if you must know, Walter took it, and frankly, I have no idea when I'll ever see it again." Peter said glumly. Olivia raised a questioning eyebrow. "It _was_ such a nice key, I painted it metallic blue."

"Oh, very funny." She replied. " ."

"Do you think I'll lie to you?" He asked cheekily, and got up to go to the kitchen. Olivia rolled her eyes good naturedly.

"You know, Peter, there's this thing called 'far-fetched', and your explanation is starting to reach the 'unbelievable' mark." She called. Peter returned, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"Isn't everything we do already there?" He asked, handing her a glass, and took a sip of the amber liquid from his own. Olivia did the same.

"Hey, did you come from home earlier?" She asked. Peter looked up from his food.

"Of course I did. Where else?" He scooped out the last of the takeout, and leaned back on the sofa, sighing. Olivia leaned back beside him.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Peter looked at her, surprised.

"Since when does Olivia Dunham watch movies?" He asked. Olivia punched him in the arm, playfully. He rubbed his arm, as though it actually hurt.

"It IS Saturday." She informed him. "I think we can afford to watch a movie."

"Wow that sounds abnormally normal. Okay. Let's go rent a movie, some popcorn, and we come back and wash up, before we watch. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Olivia said, pulling on a jacket. "And go do some grocery while you're at it. You're doing breakfast." Peter looked at her in mock shock.

"What? Me?" He said, slipping his socked free into his shoes. "Can't we just go down to the diner? No, I'm kidding. I'll do breakfast."

They arrived at the video rental some time later, and had a long discussion on what they should watch. Peter had wanted _Shutter_, while Olivia had wanted _Vantage Point_, and were both arguing about which one was better.

"Oh come on, _Vantage Point_? Doesn't it sound like work? And we've watched it already." Peter had argued, Olivia looking at him, one hand waving the DVD, the other hand on her hip.

"And _Shutter_? It's just some supernatural thing. Predictable! Just ghosts, ghosts, ghosts!" The clerk, Steve, was looking on amusedly. The same thing happened every time the two stepped into the store, which would be every week or so. Time for him to step in.

"Come on, guys. It's like, ten?" He said, sticking his thumbs into his jeans pockets. "Let me recommend a good show for the both of you." They listened, and followed him down the aisles of DVDs. Finally, he stopped, and thrust one into Peter's hands. Peter stared at it.

"_Mr Popper's Penguins_? Are you kidding me, Steve?" Steve smiled.

"Nope. If you don't want that one, I've got another." He pulled another DVD off the rack, and gave it to Olivia.

"_We Bought A Zoo_? Is that even a movie?" Steve smiled.

"Yep. And they're funny too. Don't think they're just kid shows. Comedy." Peter took the DVD from Olivia, and read through the synopsis.

"Okay, we'll take the penguin show." Peter decided. They paid for the rental, and headed out the store, laughing, arms intertwined. _Normal._

Sunshine flooded the bedroom, and shone onto the faces of the two sleeping people. But a blanket of cold air still remained, and Olivia snuggled towards Peter, soaking up all his warmth, enjoying his presence. His arm was wrapped around her, and she leaned against his chest, still in her sleep.

The moment was soon interrupted, when Olivia's phone shrilled, Peter's almost simultaneously. She groaned, as Peter awoke slowly, and reached for her cell phone.

"Dunham." She said. Next to her, Peter had decided to ignore the call, and snoozed for a moment. Anyway, Olivia should finish her call first, he reasoned with himself.

"It's Broyles. I know it's a Sunday, but you have a case. I'm sending the address to you now." Olivia mumbled an acknowledgement, and set the phone back on the bedside table, easing back to sleep. Peter reached for his phone, and dialled.

"Peter Bishop." He moaned. "Yes, fine, I'll be there." He replaced the phone onto the table, and lay back down. About thirty seconds later, he hopped out of bed. "Come on, Olivia." Olivia sank further under the quilt. "I know you don't want to get up, but we have work to do."

"Mm..." Olivia mumbled, voice muffled by the thick quilt. Peter pulled out a shirt from a drawer, and headed to the bathroom. In bed, Olivia smiled, and continued snoozing.

It seemed like no time before Peter returned, which signalled that it was her turn to use the bathroom, but she still did not feel like moving.

"Olivia! I don't want to have to drag you out." It was then that Olivia finally relented, and rolled to the edge of the bed, and Peter headed to the kitchen, smiling.

She finally emerged from the depths of sleep and the bathroom, blonde hair ruffled up, in her usual suit. Peter tossed her a muffin. Blueberry. It was a good thing they bought muffins the night before. Peter was pulling on his jacket, muffin in his mouth. Olivia yawned.

"Morning, sleepyhead." He said, words sounding like gibberish as he spoke with the muffin in his mouth. Olivia smiled, sniffling.

"I don't speak food." She said, before adding. "Do we still have those chocolate chip muffins?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Funny of you to ask, since you ate the most of those. But I think there are still some cranberry ones." Olivia disappeared into the kitchen, and Peter heard the jingle of glass as Olivia pulled the refrigerator door open. Then the refrigerator door slammed shut, and Olivia returned, brandishing a bag of cranberry muffins triumphantly.

"Five left." She said. "Come on, let's go." Peter pulled the door open, and Olivia locked up behind them. Outside, the sun was shining, and birds greeted them. It was still cold, autumn was usually chilly, and they were wrapped up. Not too many layers, though.

Heat flowed through the vents as Olivia started the engine, and they headed for their usual stop for coffee.

It was going to be a good day.

_**And this is the first chapter for you! The case is coming up next. Do review and let me know what you think! Thank you! Click that blue button, you know you want to! **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thank you to all who reviewed the first chapter! I was really encouraged by all your comments. And as promised, the second chapter. Wow, two chapters in two days? Amazing. It's the holidays, but my table is OVERFLOWING with homework...so do be patient if I don't upload this fast in the future, ya? **

**-Roxy**

**Ps. I'm still getting used to the ffnet site, so basically I'm still learning how to use it. So...**

**Samuri7269 :Thank you! And I will try that.**

**Leytivia: Thank you so much!:D**

**Zeusfluff: Thank you, and I will:)**

**Roj: Thank you! **

**Disclaimer: I do not REMOTELY own Fringe, or I'll be living in some huge mansion, and be ridiculously happy.**

{Chapter 2}

The SUV pulled up at the crime scene, a country looking two story bungalow, a well tended lawn circling it. They climbed out of the vehicle, which had the faint smell of the pair's coffee. Peter brushed some muffin crumbs off his shirt, glancing at his watch, as Broyles came up to greet them.

"Nice of you two to finally show up." He said, the three standing on the sidewalk. Olivia smiled at him.

"It's Sunday, Broyles, and you called late." She said, smiling sweetly. They headed up the path heading to the porch, which held a wicker chair, and a small table.

"Dr Bishop and Farnsworth are already in. They arrived some time ago." He informed them, which they acknowledged with a nod.

"So what do we have?" Olivia asked.

"You'll see it when you get inside." He said. They walked through the hallway, entering the first door on the left. Walter was examining the body at a VERY close range, nose almost touching the body's skin.

Although, the body didn't look to fresh, it looked like an Egyptian mummy, without the linen and spices. Olivia crinkled her nose, even though there was no smell, eyes widening.

"The maid found the victim, Carlton Crowell, this morning, when she came in to clean the house this morning." Broyles said. Peter looked at the body carefully.

"This kind of mummification would have taken _decades_. Why are we getting this case?" Peter asked, pointing a questioning finger at the body. Broyles' lips stretched maybe an inch into a smile.

"That is a good question. Neighbour talked to the victim just yesterday." He said.

"Oh, so there's that." Olivia said. Outside the door, an army of an FBI forensic team shuffled around, gathering any potential evidence. "Any thoughts, Walter?" Walter did not respond, and she looked at him again. "Walter?" Walter looked up.

"Agent Dunham! Peter! Did you two just arrive?" Peter rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we teleported." He said sarcastically. Olivia nudged him, hard.

"No, we've been here for some time." She spoke, giving Peter a look that looked none too amused, and turned back to Walter. "So, Walter, any ideas on what happened here?"

"I think, that whoever killed this man, used a sort of accelerant, which instead of making the body decompose faster, like one of our previous cases, preserved the body as the fluids in the body slowly dried up." He said. Peter looked at Olivia amusedly.

"That's great. I'll go to the nearest pharmacy and ask for some preservative that accelerates the mummification of a corpse." He said. Olivia gave him another unamused look.

"Cut the sarcasm." She hissed, and said. "I think we're done here." She stopped a passing forensic tech. "Send all evidence and the body to Harvard." She said, and shepherded the scientist and his son out of the room, Astrid following behind.

"Nice night?" Astrid asked, and Olivia looked at her, speechless and surprised. [How could she know?] Astrid turned red. "That was wrong, I mean, good Saturday?"

"Yeah. You?" Olivia said, memories of the previous night popping into her head, and she quelled the urge to smile.

"Quiet." Astrid replied, smiling. Peter appeared in the doorway again.

"Hey, you guys coming?" He asked. Olivia and Astrid hurries to the door, and got into their respective cars. Peter entered the SUV as Olivia started the engine.

"Ugh. After a while, the smell of coffee becomes...a sort of odor." Peter remarked, as Olivia pulled out of the driveway. The latter was silent. "Hey, what's on your mind?" Olivia smiled.

"Nothing. I just remembered something." She said, and immediately changed the subject. "Did you close the bag of muffins?" Peter held up the plastic bag, a large knot tying the bag shut.

"Yep."

The rest of the ride was silent, and they soon reached the lab. The castle-like structure of Harvard looked more medieval, but welcoming in the cold autumn wind, the grey sky a dark canvas to the falling leaves of red and gold.

They pushed the lab door open. It was empty. Of course, Astrid had been behind them, and would probably have stopped somewhere if Walter had requested for food of any sort. They knew Walter's little ways well.

So they waited, in the back office. On warmer days, they would have headed to the courtyard or the garden, but neither of them preferred to be sitting out in the cold, biting wind.

They could have sat out in the car, but it would have been a waste of petrol, just to sit in the heated car. So the office was the best. As each minute passed, the two seemed to sink further into the grasp of the sofa, chatting about small issues and other things.

Finally, Walter and Astrid returned, a stain that looked strangely like strawberry jam -no one wanted to contemplate the alternative- on Walter's checkered shirt. He gave them a wave, as the pair emerged from the sofa, and out of the office. Olivia headed to Astrid, who had retreated to her table, while Peter had gone over to his father.

"Walter wanted pancakes." Astrid explained apologetically, to the amusement of the FBI agent. She gave an understanding nod, but the sound of a door opening interrupted any reply she had had, and looked at the door.

"Agent Dunham?" One of the men, with FBI forensic windbreakers on, wheeled a gurney into a room, and behind him, another carried an FBI evidence box.

"That's me." Olivia said. "Leave it over there." The man wheeling the gurney parked the gurney at the designated area, and brought a clipboard for Olivia to sign. She did, and handed the clipboard back to him.

A smell wafted through the air, the distinct smell of mustard. Olivia's head perked up like a hound dog on a scent, and gestured for everyone to be silent. Then the soft ticking became apparent, and her emerald eyes widened.

"Everyone get down!" She hollered, but was stopped short by a small explosion, and felt her side burn when she slammed into a table, and hit the ground, as did all the others. Her eyes blurred, and heart pounding in her ears, she became vaguely aware of a coat of thin dust covering her skin, and she forced her eyes open, realising at once that the dust was a golden brown. In the corner of her eyes, she could see Peter pulling himself off the glass covered ground, and advance towards her.

Then everything went black.

**That didn't go how you thought it would, didn't it? *cheeky grin* Sorry for the short chapter, but do review, and let me know if I can improve on anything. Thank you!:)**

**-Roxy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello there! Yes, I am back with another chapter. Okay, I admit the last chapter did not say much about the case, maybe just a teensy weensy _little_. But all that's about to change. Enjoy!**

**-Roxy**

**Disclaimer: Why don't we let the cast do the honours today?**

**Anna: "Oh, Roxy doesn't own Fringe."**

**Joshua: "It'll be nice.."**

**Jasika: "I daresay she'll make a _pre-tty_ interesting boss, though."**

**John: "Who? Roxy? No, she doesn't own Fringe. JJ Abrams does."**

**And yes, sadly I do not own Fringe. Maybe if I'm a good girl this year, who knows what may turn up under the Christmas tree?:)**

{Chapter 3}

"Olivia...Olivia...Olivia..." Olivia awoke, eyes blurry. They soon focused, on Peter's anxious face, as he knelt by her. "Oh thank _god_." He said, pulling her into a hug. She squeaked, in pain, and he slowly released her, carefully. "Are you hurt anywhere? You took quite a tumble earlier on."

Olivia could barely make out what Peter was saying. She could hear a few words he said, but could see his lips moving and knew he was saying more than she could hear. Her ears were buzzing, with her heartbeat pounding in the background. _At least I'm alive. Dead hearts don't beat._ Peter had stopped talking, when she hadn't answered.

Now he looked at her with eyes filled with concern, hers filled with a child-like innocence, staring at him quizzically. He grabbed a stray piece of paper, and wrote a message on it, showing it to her, almost helplessly.

_Can you hear me?_ Olivia stared at the piece of paper, then took the marker and paper from Peter, and started to scrawl a message on it.

_Just words_ _here and there. The explosion_. Peter read the message, and taking the marker and paper from her, started writing out a reply.

_Are you hurt anywhere_? Olivia paused, thinking, and rolled a portion of her shirt up, revealing a whole area of bruises, from where she had slammed into the table. Peter gave her a sympathetic look, and used an index finger to gingerly touch it. Olivia winced.

Peter groaned inwardly. The bruising probably meant that she had either bruised or fractured one, or even a few ribs. Not good. A shout of "Peter!" was hollered across the lab, and Peter looked up. Astrid was waving him over, Walter looking interested in something. Peter picked the paper up again.

_I'll be back. Don't move._ He wrote, and moved across the sea of glass to Astrid, Walter and one of the forensic techs. "Yeah, what's going on here?" Walter seemed to snap out of his reverie.

"Peter! The explosion was a-a..." Walter stammered. Peter's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms.

"What? What happened?" He asked. Walter continued blubbering, and Peter turned his attention to Astrid. "Astrid."

"Uh, the golden-brown dust is a type of virus, and the explosion allowed it to disperse across the lab." Astrid said. Peter looked annoyed, at not getting enough information.

"What virus?" He asked suspiciously. Astrid did not feel like looking into Peter's hard eyes. "What was the virus?"

"Hemorrhagic fever." She said quietly, gulping. Peter's eyes looked as though they may pop out of his head.

"Hemorrhagic fever?" He exclaimed. "That means, we've-" Walter seemed to have found his voice.

"all been exposed to it, yes." He said. Peter pulled his cell phone out.

"I'm calling Broyles. We need to get this place on lockdown and get the CDC to set up a haz-mat lockdown." He said, dialling, and placing the phone to his ear. "Broyles. It's Peter Bishop. We have a situation in the lab at Harvard. An explosion, and a release of a strain of hemorrhagic fever. We need haz-mat, and medics. No, she's down because of the blast. Thanks."

"Is Olivia okay?" Astrid asked, as she began to pick her way over to the FBI agent who was sitting in the midst of the glass.

"She may have a few bruised or fractured ribs. Be careful." Astrid nodded, and continued her journey across the broken glass. Peter thought, as a detective would have. Who had sent the bomb? Had it been one of the techs? Had any of them pissed some sort of mobster off?

None of the questions helped. If the techs had known about the bomb, they would have left before its detonation, or at least distanced themselves from it. And all of them would have at least pissed some big shot off at one point or another, and any of them could be the target, except perhaps Astrid, who was interestingly, a little too good. He took a next glance, at Astrid, who was attending to Olivia.

"Walter. Is there any way that an antidote can be created? A cure, anything!" Peter asked, almost desperately, trying to push away all the fearful thoughts which were trying to force themselves into his brain. Walter was doing his best to avoid Peter's eyes.

"There- there may be a way where I- I can be able to reverse the virus. You see, this virus has mutated, and is a new, _stronger_ strain." Walter said. "But, I-I may be able to formulate an antidote."

_Seeing as how we're all probably gonna die, anyway. _Peter thought bitterly. He nodded, then turned on the two terrified techs, who were staring wide eyed at Peter. "You guys okay?" he asked.

"You called CDC?" one of them asked slowly. Peter nodded.

"Yeah. They're on their way." He clapped his hands decisively. "We have to prevent the spread of the virus. Start blocking up all points where it is possible for the virus to escape."

"What if we are not infected?" one of them asked.

"The chances of that are infinitesimal. We were all covered by the dust, so assuming that the dust carried the virus, we have all been infected." Peter said pointedly. The same tech looked at him doubtfully.

"What if it didn't?" he asked. The other tech had apparently resigned to the fact that he had been infected, and sighed.

"Harrison..." he started. Harrison shot him a look.

"Don't, David. I have to know." He turned back to Peter. "What if it didn't?" Peter's gaze never wavered.

"Then what did?" Harrison didn't have an answer.

"Dunham. From what I hear, shouldn't you be resting?" Broyles asked, through the plastic that separated the team from the rest of the world. Next to Olivia, Peter smirked.

"You know how well she takes those sort of orders, don't you?" he countered cheekily.

"I am fine." Olivia said, rolling her eyes, and gave the two men reassuring looks. "Really."

"Now, why do I not believe that?" Peter murmured.

"So, according to Dr Bishop, is there any way to cure this virus?" Broyles asked. Olivia looked at Peter. After all, Astrid had been attending to her when that issue had been raised.

"Broyles. Rest assured, Walter is doing absolutely _anything_ he can to formulate a cure." Peter said. "And anyway, I think it would be a good idea to send a sample of the virus over to Massive Dynamics. Perhaps they may be able to formulate an antidote."

"That is another option." Broyles replied, nodding. "After all, two brains are better than one, I suppose. And one more thing, I will be handing the case to another team." Olivia's eyes widened.

"Broyles, you can't do that." She protested. Just as Broyles' lips formed the word 'why', she said. "The body and evidence have been covered with traces of the virus, and cleaning them may clean off any evidence. You wouldn't want to lose another team, do you?"

"Olivia..." Peter started. Broyles seemed to get her point. And he knew her well. Olivia would want to finish the case. He should have known. He exchanged a few looks with Peter, who finally nodded.

"Guy talk?" Olivia asked.

"No." Broyles said. "I am ordering Peter to be your 'guardian'. If he tells you to stop working, you will stop, or you will be stuck behind your desk for a week or two after this." Olivia pouted.

"Yes sir." She sulked, looking down at the ground, still pouting childishly. Broyles gave Peter another look.

_You think you can handle this? _the look said. Peter shrugged.

_I've definitely dealt with worse._ Broyles gave him an expression which looked suspiciously like a smirk.

_Oh, you have no idea what you're getting into._ Peter just gave him a smug look.

_Just wait and see._ Beside him, Olivia let out an annoyed 'pfft'.

"Boy talk?" She asked sarcastically. Peter smiled.

"You won't know."

**Okay, I think we have pretty much established that I kind of have a unique way of ending chapters, which I am working on. I honestly hoped you enjoyed that chapter, and... _pleaaaassseee_ review! (Because I think that sad blue button might just walk away if it's neglected.) I would love to know what you think, and know how and what I may and can improve on.**

**-Roxy:)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! Hope you guys are having a good week. Thank you guys for all those reviews and story alerts! Well, so here's the fourth chapter. A little busy, so this took a little longer than usual, well actually more than a little. But I still hope you enjoy it!**

**-Roxy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe, no matter how much I wish it were mine. But the current owners are doing a good job, so that's good.**

{Chapter 4}

"Do you think one of the forensic techs brought in the bomb?" Peter murmured, as he and Olivia went through the evidence boxes. What was left of it, anyway. The boxes were now mostly charred, and evidence from the box which had blown up now lay strewn all over the place. Olivia gave him an upwards glance.

"Perhaps. Right now anything is possible." She said. "But if they did, why didn't they get out of here before the bomb detonated?" She countered, placing another stack of evidence on the table.

"I don't know. To get the suspicion off them?" Peter replied, picking out metal pieces, which were most likely from the bomb. "As you said, anything's possible." Olivia answered him with a thoughtful look.

"How about their body language, when Astrid announced the presence of the virus?" She asked. Peter smiled. _Of course. See how each of them reacted at the mention of the virus._ But his smile soon faltered.

"Honestly? I think it won't be any good." Peter said. "Harrison acted shocked, in a way which seemed like he had been blindsided. But David seemed to accept the thing quickly, and calmly, as though he already knew."

"Maybe they were in it together?" Olivia asked. Peter put the forceps down, and leaned on the table, giving her a sideway glance.

"I doubt that." He said. Outside, the sky was turning dark, and the stars started to shine in the sky. "What time is it?" Olivia glanced at her watch.

"Uh, about 5.10." She said. "Why?" Peter shook his head, and shrugged. "What?" He looked at her innocently, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." He smiled mischievously. "Nothing at all." Olivia gave him a 'I'm not playing games' look. He shook his head again, and picked up the forceps again.

"Peter!" Olivia exclaimed. Peter shook his head. Her eyes narrowed. "You're playing me. Aw, come on! That's not funny, Peter." He chuckled, and Olivia gave him a good-natured punch in the shoulder. He gave her a sad look, then doubled up in laughter. "You, my friend, are in trouble." Peter looked at her with a straight face, then burst into laughter again. "Peter Bishop!"

"Sorry." He said, wiping away minute traces of tears away from his eyes, then he gave her a smile. "You have to admit that it was funny." Olivia gave him an unamused look.

" . It's _so_ funny." She said. "Can you hear me laughing?" Peter shook his head.

"Nope. But that's what I said about you being too serious, and tense." He said. "I'm right you know." Olivia smiled.

"And _you_ just got tricked." She said. Peter's jaw dropped.

"Okay, _that_ is not funny." He said, brandishing the forceps at the FBI agent. Olivia took it from him with a gloved hand.

"Thanks, I needed that."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Astrid was 'watching' the two forensic techs, who were, in turn, watching the exchange between Olivia and Peter. Astrid looked up from her work, watching them observe the two from their stools.

"Find anything interesting in that corner of the room?" She asked, flipping through a few emails. There was a momentary silence, and she looked up, a little uneasily.

"Hey can I ask you something?" David asked.

"Uh... Yeah, okay." Astrid replied, a little awkwardly, at the two pairs of eyes which were staring at her. "Shoot." The two techs exchanged awkward looks too.

"Uh, you know, are Agent Dunham and Peter Bishop, you know..." David stammered out, reddening.

"Together?" Harrison blurted out, looking at the floor. Astrid was silent. Many a time, she had wondered the exact same thing. She had no answer for them for a while, but soon settled on one.

"Honestly? I don't know." Astrid said, a little nervously. "But I think everyone is entitled to a private life, don't you?" She continued, and turned back to the computer. Secretly, her heart was pounding, and hoped that her voice had not started shaking when she had spoken. But truth be told? She wanted to know the answer too. Suspicions aside, she still had to work, and continued on.

Dinner had come through the sealed airlock of the containment unit. The evening's fare was relatively good, as compared to takeout and whiskey, a steak with mashed potatoes and vegetables, with a glass of Chardonnay on the side. Peter scrutinized his glass of wine, smacking his lips.

"Personally I prefer whiskey." He said, taking another sip. "But this is fine." Olivia popped a forkful of steak into her mouth, giving him a raised eyebrow. "You think FBI will get us a flat screen and DVD player too?"

"Don't bet on it." She said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You'll probably get thrown into jail." Peter gave her a sly smile, which earned a laugh from her.

"You never know until you try." He said. Olivia shook her head.

"I'm serious. Don't." She said.

"Oh fine!" Peter exclaimed. Olivia put on her serious face.

"Okay, seriously, anything on the case?" She asked. Peter shook his head, and pointed to a nearby table, with the bomb parts on it.

"Nope. I'm still trying to see if it's possible to piece the bomb fragments together." He said. He received an exasperated look.

"The _case_. Mummified remains? Ring a bell?" She asked.

"Of course." Peter said, thoughtfully. "But just think for a second, that perhaps the killer, and the person who sent the bomb are the same person? After all, it came in the evidence box."

"Isn't that jumping to conclusions?" She asked. Peter shrugged.

"I guess. But you _have_ to admit that it's plausible." He said. "Can you think of any other explanation?" Olivia paused to think about it.

"No, not really." She said. "But suppose that you're right, why did he or she kill in the first place? He or she could have just sent the bomb to the lab." Peter smiled triumphantly.

"Imagine you're a criminal, maybe with a grudge against someone. Would sending a bomb feel satisfactory to you? In this case, I think the body is a call for attention."

"Like perhaps a calling card?" Peter nodded. "Then this guy must really have gone a long way to create this crime." Another nod. "And by sending us a bomb, it effectively destroys most of the evidence, and he or she gets his or her revenge by sending us the hemorrhagic fever."

"And since he or she destroyed most of the evidence, the best lead is the bomb." Peter concluded. Olivia nodded, understanding now. They exchanged triumphant smiles. "But it could just be a good theory, and nothing else."

"But we have nothing to go on, so that's the only theory we have, and we may twist it with the new facts we get." She said, as though she had no choice, which she practically didn't.

"So that's why I'm putting this bomb back together." Peter said. "We should take samples of the metal and find out what it's made of. I don't think everything exploded."

"Okay."

"Olivia!" Astrid called worriedly, as she crossed the lab to go over to the two. Worry and increasing anxiety was portrayed across her features, and that wiped the smile off Olivia's face. "Walter's got something. On the virus."

"What is it?" She asked, Peter leaning in to listen.

"The virus is a strain of a hemorrhagic fever better known as 'Cat's Claw'." Astrid continued. Beside Olivia, Peter paled, and groaned.

"I take it that that's really bad." Olivia said, spying Peter's reaction. He nodded.

"Cat's Claw is a hemorrhagic fever, which tears your skin apart. First you start bruising, then there are 'claw marks' tearing your skin apart. Then, your lungs get filled with fluid. It's either you drown, or get torn to pieces." He explained. Olivia made a face, and shuddered.

"And that's not the only bad news." Astrid said. Peter smirked sarcastically.

"Seeing how all this is going I don't see why there _shouldn't_ be anything worse." He said. "So what's the _other_ bad news?" Astrid hesitated.

"All of us have between twenty-four to thirty-six hours to live."

**Uh oh, that doesn't sound too good, does it. But don't jump to conclusions! Spoiler: there will be some Polivia scenes next! Please review, that blue button is so cute that you want to click it! **

**-Roxy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi there again! I'm sorry if the previous chapter wasn't that up to standard, or there were mistakes in it, because I really wanted to update this story, and I really didn't have much time, so, apologies again, I will try to update once every two days or faster, it's hard to write when you're doing trigonometry. And another thing, I have no idea if 'Cat's Claw' is real, I saw it in a novel and decided to use it since I used hemorrhagic fever in the previous chapters, and have [absolutely] no medical background. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter!:)**

**-Roxy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe, or my name would be on the opening theme, which would be kinda cool, but nah, just a dream.**

{Chapter 5}

Night had fallen, and everyone had taken different corners of the lab for the night. The lab was not built for habilitation, except perhaps the sofa in the office, which belonged to Walter. But aside from that, there was no way a person could have ever felt comfortable sleeping in there. So they had settled for different corners, wrapped up in sleeping bags and blankets provided by the FBI.

Astrid was asleep on the floor, near her desk, sleeping bag almost covering her entire face, trying to move deeper into it to get more warmth. The lab had a heater, but a chill still filled the room. Near her were the two forensic techs, Harrison and David, who were also asleep in their sleeping bags. Walter was in his office, no doubt fast asleep.

Away from the others, Olivia and Peter had chosen a spot behind some worktops, and were still awake, the full moon reflecting light into the room, unhindered by any clouds. The lab was silent, punctuated by the breathing of sleeping people, and the occasional snore. They were staring at the stars in the sky, diamonds on a piece of black silk.

"This feels like camping." Olivia whispered. "Sleeping under the stars, imagining that there's a monster waiting to get you." There was a rustle, as Peter turned to face her, chin resting on his elbows.

"You've gone camping?" He whispered back, trying not to wake anyone. Olivia smiled at him, teeth flashing in the darkness.

"In my backyard, with Rachel." She whispered. Peter tried not to laugh, which resulted in a lot of shaking from him. "Hey, at least I've _been_ camping." She hissed.

"Fine, fine. Hey, there are some people from CDC, and some medics out there, right?" Peter asked. Olivia looked at him worriedly.

"Why, you feeling okay?" She asked. Peter shrugged.

"Oh, I'm fine. And unlike you, I mean it when I say it. No, don't argue with me about that." He said. "Just that if Massive Dynamics manages to obtain or formulate a cure or antidote, I want to get it straight away."

"Don't we all?" Olivia replied, yawning. Peter smiled.

"Go sleep, you little sleepyhead." He whispered. "We have a long day tomorrow." Olivia smiled back at him, then pulled the sleeping bag almost all the way over her head, using the blanket as a pillow. Peter wrapped himself with the quilt-like blanket, and soon fell asleep.

Morning dawned, and the lab was completely silent, so much so that you could have heard a pin drop. But the occupants of the lab were rousing, and the silence was often briefly broken by the sound of someone turning in their sleeping bags. Olivia was already awake, but beginning to succumb to the grasp of sleep.

Peter, on the other hand, was still asleep, a stray ray of sunlight poking in from the window, and dancing playfully across his face. Despite the morning sun, the lab was at a bone-chilling temperature, and stepping out of the sleeping bags meant going into the cold, and no one wanted to do that. Olivia turned, enjoying her body warmth, which was trapped in the thick layering of her sleeping bag. She yawned, eyes closing.

A clatter came from the lab doors, and she risked a look out of her bag, cold air rushing in as she poked her head out. Breakfast. She shivered, and retreated back into the warmth of her sleeping bag. But she could not resist the temptation of a warm pot of coffee, or hot chocolate, and slowly climbed out if her sleeping bag, getting accustomed to the cold.

She soon emerged, dressed in a grey FBI sweatshirt, and a set of winter track pants. Her feet were warmed by a pair of woollen socks, and she wore a set of bed slippers over them. Olivia approached the trays of breakfast blearily, yawning. Closer inspection showed that their breakfast was scrambled eggs, sausages, a small container of yoghurt, and a pot of coffee.

"Good food?" A voice said behind her, and she jumped a little, and whirled around. Peter smiled back at her, wearing a thick navy blue MIT pullover, hands stuffed in its pockets. His eyes were still half closed, and his dark hair was ruffled up.

"I guess." She said, smiling back at him, while he arranged her mop of blonde hair. "No cupcakes or cereal, I guess." Peter scrutinized the breakfast.

"No whiskey either. But there's coffee." He said. Olivia laughed. "We need cupcakes." There was a yawn behind them, and they turned. Astrid stood behind them, and hair looking more wild than ever, slowly blinked at them. She yawned again.

"Morning, guys. I presume we all survived last night?" She drawled, pulling her fingers through her unruly hair, and wincing, pulled her fingers out. Olivia and Peter watched her with amused eyes. "What?"

"Never mind." Olivia said, and gave Peter a look, which he returned with a shrug. They pulled the trays out off the airlock, and slid them across the table. Then they headed to the lab's only bathroom to clean up, waiting in a line outside the door. About 15 minutes later, they were done, and back at the table.

"This brings back memories of school lunches." Olivia said, as she took a seat at the table, as did Peter and Astrid.

"I thought you went to boarding school?" Peter asked, sitting down on one of the chairs. Olivia nodded.

"I did. But I did go for prep school." She said, as she took a sip from her cup of coffee, elbow propping her chin up on the table. "Day school." She added. In the far end of the lab, Harrison got up, and headed to the bathroom, groggily.

"I see." Peter said. Then the lab plunged back into silence, which was occasionally broken by small talk of various topics, ranging from the weather, to politics.

"Hey, how long has Harrison been in there?" Astrid asked, putting down her knife. Olivia consulted her watch.

"About 20 minutes, why?" She asked.

"You don't find anything wrong with that?" Peter said, putting down a napkin, and slipped off his chair. Olivia seemed to realise what he meant, and got off her chair as well. They headed down the steps, and to the bathroom, which was at the other side of the lab.

They approached the bathroom door carefully, as though they were on a raid. There was no sound in the bathroom, and Olivia rapped on the door sharply. Astrid and Peter watched her, ready for anything.

"Harrison! You in there?" Olivia called. There was no reply, and she fished a set of skeleton keys from her pocket, and started unlocking the bathroom door, while the other two looked on, in a mix of shock and amusement.

"You keep that thing in your pocket?" Peter enquired, arms folded. Olivia shot him a knowing glance.

"Nope. I keep it in my socks." She replied drily. Astrid could not resist a smile.

"Oh. Ha. Ha. That's funny." Was Peter's reply. Olivia stood up, and pushed the door open. Harrison lay on the floor, blue in the face, bruised and bleeding.

Dead.

**A/N: I tried to upload this as soon as possible, but I guess it just got dragged, so I had to settle for giving you a short and sweet chapter. Okay, I really want to know, would you guys prefer it if I uploaded one chapter maybe every two to three days, or if I uploaded a few chapters, maybe two or more, at the end of the week? And I've been told that I'm getting too chatty, so I will tone down. Do review please!:)**

**-Roxy;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A word from the one and only me: Hi guys! I'm back! I really hope that you guys enjoyed my previous chapter, and thank you for all those reviews! SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY that I couldn't update, apparently hiatus means no laptop. Hope you guys don't hate me:/ And... I guess I should stop talking now. Just kidding! Haha!:p**

**-Roxy:)**

**Disclaimer: I _so_ do not own Fringe, nor do I own the characters in the show. I just write about them^^**

{Chapter 6}

"Broyles! Yes, I will calm down. Soon." Olivia said rapidly into her phone. "I want to have the CDC get the body and send it to Massive Dynamic." On the other end of the line, Broyles sighed.

"Dunham. I need you to calm down now. The CDC is right outside your door. They need to suit up. Just give them time." He said, slowly. Olivia nearly went hysterical.

"I can't calm down, sir!" She exclaimed. "We are all probably going to _die_, and you expect me to _keep calm_?" Peter groaned.

"Olivia! Calm down!" He hissed. She pouted, and simmered silently. He took the phone from her. "Broyles. It's Bishop." He said calmly, and after listening, glanced at Olivia. "Yes, that's why. Okay, got it. Bye." He hung up, and passed the phone back to Olivia. "You, my friend, have a lot of letting loose to do."

"Huh." Olivia replied, pocketing the cell phone. "Technically speaking, Harrison was the nearest to the bomb other than me. Other than me, [he] had the most powder on him. And now he's dead, and I can't help but wonder 'oh gosh, he's gone. How soon will it be till it's my turn?' _Technically_, I should already be dead! And you expect me to calm down?" Her voice had escalated to a yell, and she ended her tirade with a shrill scream. Peter did not react, but just watched her, arms folded.

"You done?" He asked. Olivia nodded, leaning against a table. "Feel better?" Olivia nodded again.

"Yeah. Thanks." She replied. Peter just shrugged.

"I know you too well." He remarked, shaking his head, and left her standing in the middle of the lab. He approached the refrigerator, where David was brushing Gene.

"Hey." He greeted. Peter turned, and gave him a nod.

"Hey."

"Girl trouble?" He asked casually, pulling the brush through Gene's coat. Peter took a sip from a glass of water, sitting on the floor in front of the stable, legs dangling into the space.

"Nope. Seen Walter?" He asked. David nodded.

"I checked on him earlier on, like maybe an hour ago. He was still sleeping. But he should be up now." Peter nodded.

"Thanks." He said. David shrugged, then continued brushing Gene.

"No problem. He reminded me of my grandfather, very eccentric." Peter gave a laugh. Walter was not really eccentric, he was more of on the brink of _insanity _sometimes.

"Eccentric, yeah." He replied. "You had your breakfast yet?" David did not respond for a while, busying himself with the brush.

"Nope." He finally answered. Peter put the glass down, and pointed towards the tables.

"There's breakfast on the table. Just take any of the trays, they're all the same. I'm going to check on Walter." He got patted David on the back, then stood up. "I know you two were friends, but you have to eat, okay?" David grunted an agreement, and Peter wandered off.

"Walter, Walter!" Peter called, as he entered the office. Walter was still in bed, the sofa bed, reading through a considerably thick thesis. Peter looked for a title, and found that it was on hemorrhagic fever. "Walter, it's time for breakfast."

Walter did not respond, and continued looking at the page. Peter waited for a while, then tapped the page impatiently.

"Walter. There's-"

"Peter, it is imperative that you allow me to continue the scrutiny of this thesis, no matter how vague it is, and-"

"Walter. I was just going to tell you that there's breakfast, and all theses that are not written by _you_ is considered 'vague'. Anyway, I want to see your breakfast finished in half an hour." Peter said, rolling his eyes. Now _who_ was the parent here? Walter finally put the thesis down.

"Have you been sleeping with Agent Dunham?" He asked. Peter's jaw dropped.

"So now you change the topic to my _sex life_? That's nice." He demanded. Walter ignored him, and picked up the thesis again. Peter let out an exasperated sound, and left. He rejoined Olivia and Astrid, who were watching the CDC bring Harrison's body out.

"So?" Olivia asked, as Peter slid in next to her. Peter just shook his head.

"Apparently, Walter has _suddenly_ grown interested in my sex life." He informed her. Olivia laughed, amused, as Astrid's eyes widened, hand connecting with her forehead.

"Oh my god. I'm going to sit out of this particular conversation." She murmured, and headed away from them. Peter and Olivia watched as she left, Peter smirking.

"Now _that_ was fast." He remarked.

"So what _exactly_ did Walter ask this time?" Olivia enquired. Peter grimaced.

"He asked whether I was sleeping with you." Olivia grinned.

"And?"

"I left?" Peter replied cautiously. "Should I have answered?"

"Should you?" Olivia countered. Peter twisted his face into a thinking face, as Olivia watched him with a smug look.

"Nope." Peter said. Olivia grinned at him, the grin a head cheerleader gave to a nerdy boy who had a crush on her, the 'you're so pathetic' look. Peter recognised it almost immediately, although he had not been on the receiving end of one. He had just seen many of his comrades fall for that smile.

"FBI Special Agent trumps the MIT genius." She announced. "Nice." They started off towards the computer, Peter giving protests.

"Technically, I _let_ you win." He said. Olivia shrugged.

"I _won_." Peter grabbed her by the waist, and swung her around. She squealed with laughter, messy blonde hair swinging around.

"Put me dowwwwwwwn!" She shrieked, in between bouts of laughter. Astrid appeared out of nowhere, anxiously, but stopped when she saw what was going on. Then she shook her head, and disappeared again. Next to appear was Walter, ambling around the corner.

"Peter. What on earth _are_ you doing?" Peter stopped, arms still around Olivia's waist. "Oh, I won't interrupt whatever you two were doing, but I need a blood sample from Agent Dunham." Olivia tried to smoothen her hair down.

"Um, sure." She said nervously. "Why _exactly_ do you need it?" Walter looked at her as though she were crazy.

"Why, to figure out what prevented you from getting the fever first, of course! And perhaps create an antidote using the information." Olivia nodded.

"Sure, Walter. Tell me when you want to collect it." Walter's expression did not change.

"When you're done with Peter, of course. I wouldn't want to disturb the both of you." Peter rolled his eyes, as Olivia gave a nervous laugh, gesturing between her and Peter.

"We were not doing anything." She said. Walter completely ignored what she said, same triumphant smile on his face. "Which means that you can collect that blood sample now."

"Walter. Take the blood. Get it over with." Peter said, when Walter did not seem to react to whatever Olivia had said. "Walter."

"Right." He said, and fished out a syringe. Olivia seemed to wince, but rolled up her sleeve slowly. Walter pulled out a set of alcohol swabs, and started to swab her arm. Peter had to roll his eyes at Walter's apparent glee, but was struck by Olivia's stare.

_Don't, Peter._ Olivia's gaze was saying. When he met her eyes, she shook her head.

_Do you think that syringe is sterile?_ Peter's look replied. Olivia shrugged.

_Even if it wasn't, I would probably end up dead sooner or later anyway_.

_Don't say that, Olivia. We're all going to come out of this alright, as always._

_But one day, all that luck is going to run out. Have you wondered if that day could be today?_

_Olivia-_

"All done." Walter announced, all smiles. Olivia looked at him suspiciously, then turned to Peter, who was wearing a smug look.

"On second thought..."

**Apparently after I came back on to the internet, I realised that Fringe 5 is going to be the last season of Fringe ever. JUST HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN? I will cry for ages, I swear, I'm really devastated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and do review, and maybe drop me a private message to tell me how you feel about Fringe 5, or include it in a review. And I'm thinking of starting another story with situations and stories that us Fringe fans would like to see, and will include details in the next chapter. Thanks!^^**

**-Roxy;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**From my mind: I just can't stop thinking about Fringe 5 being the last season of Fringe EVER. It's horrible, horrendous, preposterous! I hope that the previous chapter wasn't too sloppy and that you enjoyed it. I think I will start indulging more in Polivia fluff soon, because I feel so sad that Fringe is ending and that I'll miss everyone so much, even though I don't know them personally. Do enjoy this chapter!**

**This week's trivia: In total, Fringe will have an exact 100 episodes after season 5 ends.**

**-Roxy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe, if I did, it wouldn't be ending after season 5. Or there would be some sort of continuation or something.**

{Chapter 7}

"On second thought, maybe I should have found out where that syringe came from." Olivia said suddenly, as Walter headed towards another part of the lab. Peter was howling with laughter, apparently at Olivia's sudden realisation, and was practically gasping for air. She turned on him. "_Not_ funny, Peter Bishop." She added.

"It's just-just that-" he managed to wheeze, before dissolving into laughter again. Olivia resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, hard, and just watched him plainly.

"Okay, tell me when you're done laughing, and I will _perhaps_ consider stopping my work." With that, she turned, and headed off towards a computer.

"Olivia." Peter gasped, trying to stop laughing, as he followed after her. "I'm sorry, okay?" Olivia did not respond, as she continued towards the table. "I wasn't even laughing at you!" From a distance, Astrid had burst into squeals of laughter, and Olivia, now suspicious, turned.

To her amusement, David was doing a sort of clown dance, to one of Walter's records. Now he shuffled, with a forced face, waving his arms around wildly like a drunkard. Olivia laughed too, and soon tears were rolling down her cheeks as she gasped for air. Peter was literally rolling on the floor, leaning against one of the tables as he clamped his ears shut.

"What do you people think you're doing?" Broyles' voice said, from the airlock. Olivia whirled around, while David hurriedly shut the gramophone off, and straightened his shirt. Broyles was wearing one of his usual crisp suits, standing in the airlock, watching the motley crew.

"I can explain." Olivia volunteered, before dissolving into short bursts of laughter. "But you have _got_ to see David dance." Broyles smiled lamely, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I get that. How's everyone, and how's the case coming along?" He asked.

"Broyles, I think most of us are concentrating on how to stay alive and getting OUT of this alive, much less solving the case." Peter chimed, from his spot on the floor.

"Where's Bishop?" Broyles asked. Peter waved his hand, a lonely white hand amongst the sea of tables, beakers, and chemicals. A loud meow came from near one of the tables.

"What was that?" Peter scooted around to find the source, and pulled out a small white cat.

"Paprika?" Olivia gasped. Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Paprika?"

**A/N such a short chapter.. after a long time, I feel horrible for this:( and I just had to add something random. *brimming with randomness* Trying my hardest to update as quickly as possible!**

**-Roxy . **


	8. Chapter 8Hope and a cat

**A/N Okay, I was kind of disappointed with myself about the last chapter, which was ridiculously short. And I'm _really_ sorry if I disappointed any of you too, but my schedule is pretty tight and I am helping my friend with a story for her publisher, and I am trying to do as much as I can now, so please bear with me! Thank you so much for sticking with me!:)**

**-Roxy**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I do not own Fringe. In my mind maybe, but not in real life. Go figure. That's life.**

{Chapter 8!}

"_Paprika?"_

Peter asked, sceptically. Olivia blushed. David and Broyles gaped.

"Whoa, whoa. Who's Paprika?" he asked. Olivia blushed even further.

"My cat." Peter's eyes nearly dropped out of his head.

"Your _cat_?" he exclaimed. "You have a cat?" Olivia hung her head.

"I don't. It's in my imagination." Peter folded his arms, the cat running around the lab's concrete floor, a small bell tinkling with every step it took. His look of jaded amazement was frozen on his face, like a statue.

"Okay, you have a cat. Which is in your imagination." Olivia nodded. "So what's it doing here?"

"I believe that it's the results of the Cortexiphan." Walter said, watching the feline roam around the lab. "Olivia managed to make what was in her imagination come to life when she was a child. I believe she may be doing it again." Peter had a half disbelieving look on his face.

"Okay, now _that_ makes a whole lot of sense." He groaned.

"Well, she _did _manage to set a room on fire when she was seven." Walter pointed out. Peter smirked at Olivia, impressed.

"Oh, you have _got_ to show me that some time." Olivia frowned.

"I hope I don't." She said, scooping the cat into her arms, and stroked it lovingly. "It's not going to be very fun."

"That's an understatement." Peter murmured, staring at the feline. The cat was a cream coloured kitten, with striking blue eyes and small paws. It purred happily as Olivia stroked its head. Olivia laughed.

"Jealous?" She asked, noticing Peter's miffed expression. He did not answer for a moment, letting his eyes do the talking. _It's a cat, Peter, not a human._ His rational side said. _Keep telling yourself that._ His cynical side cackled. He shook his head.

"Not really. But I think we may have some issues if this continues." Olivia put the cat on the floor again, and stroked Peter's head, as she had done with the cat.

"Better?" Peter blushed.

"Sort of." Broyles' phone shrilled, bringing the conversation to a halt. He fished it out of his pocket.

"Broyles." He chimed. His face brightened for a moment, which might have been virtually impossible to the others, had they not been there to see it. "Have it sent over here immediately. Alright, send my thanks to Nina." He said after a while, and hung up.

"Good news?" Peter asked. Broyles nodded.

"Massive Dynamic has synthesized a cure. It's on the way." He said. The lab erupted into cheers of joy. Astrid gave a little shriek, and Peter and Olivia hugged tightly, laughing. Broyles was also smiling, and so was Walter.

"That's _great_ news, Broyles." Olivia exclaimed, feeling the joy welling up in her heart. Broyles did not have the heart to give her a little remark about correcting him. He was equally glad about this piece of news.

"One more thing," he said seriously. Everyone stopped, and stared at him, a little fearfully. Was there a 'but' to all this? Broyles' face broke out into a smile. "It's time for lunch."

**A/N Okay, I don't know if I spelled 'cortexiphan' right. Is it 'cortexiphine' or 'cortexiphan'? And I took a guess at Olivia's age when she first met Peter as kids. Another short chapter..sorry guys.. Time for another chapter for you guys soon, feel so bad about all this long wait and short chapters. **

**Until the next chapter, Roxy:)**


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